Page 7 of Saddles and Snowstorms (Sagebrush Cowboys #4)

Rowan

“ W ell,” I said, glancing up at the clock on the wall. “I can be out there in about twenty minutes to take a look at your horse. Just gotta lock up the office for the day and I’ll be on my way.”

“Thank you, Doc,” a man’s voice said from the other end of the phone. “I know you’re done for the day, but she means a lot to me.”

“I’ll do everything I can to help,” I replied. “See you in twenty minutes.”

I hung up the phone, glancing down at the address on the scratch piece of paper in front of me.

I’d completely forgotten to get the guy’s name.

I needed to get better about that. But I was out of practice answering phones.

Usually, it was my assistant taking care of all that.

However, she had to leave early that day, so I was running the place by myself.

After just a couple hours of it I had a newfound appreciation for her work.

It was hard to run an entire vet clinic and be the doctor all at the same time.

And now that my day was done, it was time to make a couple more visits out to my customers who were too big to fit in my examination room.

If things kept going at this rate, I’d need to hire on a partner.

But that would have to wait, I didn’t have time to even think about it much less look.

Besides, it was possible things would calm down once the newness wore off.

Then again, spring was quickly approaching and that meant things were going to ramp up.

Calving season was closing in fast. Every time I drove out of town and saw a cow as big as a parade float walking through the fields, I cringed.

Most of them would do fine on their own, but even then, I’d have my hands beyond full with the rest.

With a sigh, I closed up the clinic, grabbed my equipment, and hopped into my truck.

The ranch wasn’t far out of town. It was some sort of large cattle operation.

Usually, I’d expect to get a call about a sick cow or sickness spreading through the herd while they were in more confined quarters for the winter.

But this call was about a colicky horse and from the way the guy was going on about it, it sounded serious.

I just hoped I could help him out. He was one of the larger clients in town and I didn’t want to lose him straight out the gate if I couldn’t help his horse.

The drive out to the ranch took me through the rolling prairie of Sagebrush, Texas.

Even with winter’s grip still holding tight, there was something beautiful about the landscape, and the way the late afternoon sun painted the hills in shades of amber and gold.

I’d only been in town for three months, and I was still getting used to the vastness of northern Texas, so different from the crowded suburbs where I’d done my residency.

I pulled up to a set of massive iron gates with “Turner Ranch” wrought into the metal.

The gates stood open, inviting me down a long gravel drive that cut through green winter grass.

At the end stood a sprawling ranch house, all stone and timber, with a series of barns and outbuildings stretched behind it.

Off to the right side was another driveway heading back toward a series of cabins with a small parking lot.

The moment I saw them, I knew they were rentals.

It wasn’t uncommon for bigger ranches to encourage tourism to help them make ends meet.

I just didn’t know that anyone in Sagebrush had actually gone through with it.

And this one, despite the cold weather and the overcast skies, looked like it as booked up and doing fine.

Before I could even park near the house, a tall figure emerged from the nearest barn, moving with the easy, bow-legged gait of someone who’d spent his life in the saddle.

As I stepped out of my truck, I got my first good look at him—broad-shouldered, with blonde hair peeking out from under a weathered Stetson, his face bronzed from the sun and creased with worry lines.

“Doc Walsh?” he said, holding out a hand to shake.

“That’s me,” I replied, shaking his hand. “You can just call me Rowan though.”

“Beau Turner,” he replied, his voice filled with concern. “Willow is back this way.”

“Is she really bad?” I asked, suddenly worried by how serious he seemed.

“She’s been pacin’ all day and biting at herself. And her belly looks distended.” I had to practically jog to keep up with him. “She’s my best horse, my best friend really. I can’t bear to lose her.”

“It’s alright,” I replied, trying to reassure him as best I could. Ranchers sure did get awfully attached to their horses. “I’ll do everything I can for her, don’t worry.”

“Appreciate that, Doc.”

I followed Beau into the barn, the familiar scent of hay, leather, and horses washing over me. Despite my city upbringing, I’d grown to love that smell during vet school. It meant honest work and animals that needed my help.

The barn was immaculate—polished wood stalls with brass nameplates, concrete floors swept clean.

Everything about the Turner Ranch spoke of generations of care and pride.

Not to mention a little bit of new shine to make the guests feel like they were getting their money’s worth.

In fact, a couple of them were wandering around the barn as we came in, their heads turning in our direction.

“She’s down here,” Beau said, his voice tight with worry as he led me to a large corner stall.

Inside was a beautiful chestnut mare with a white blaze on her forehead, her coat gleaming even in the dim barn light. She was pacing restlessly, stopping occasionally to look back at her flanks, her ears pinned back in discomfort.

“Hey there, beautiful,” I said softly, setting my bag down outside the stall. “Mind if I come in and take a look at you?”

Beau opened the stall door, and I slipped inside, moving slowly to avoid startling the horse. Up close, I could see the sweat darkening her neck and flanks. Definitely colic. The question was what kind and how severe.

“How long has she been like this?” I asked, pulling out my stethoscope.

“Since—” Beau began.

Another voice cut in, this one distinctly un-Texan. “Probably since two days ago when you left that whole damn case of Oreos on the table.”

I looked up to see a brown-haired man marching my way.

He had a cowboy hat on too, although it looked pretty immaculate for someone who did a lot of cattle work.

His clothes were clean too and nicely pressed.

Judging by his accent and the way he carried himself, he was much more a businessman than a cowboy.

“Oreos?” I asked, looking up at Beau.

He went from looking worried to ashamed almost instantly.

“That’s right,” the other man said, stepping up beside Beau and burning him a dirty look. “We had an entire family pack of them on the table and this fuckin’ troublemaker,” he said, pointing up at the horse. “Ate every goddamn one and half the container along with it. She hasn’t sat still since.”

I could help but smile at the way this man was glaring down Beau. For all the macho cowboy charisma he exuded, he backed right down under the gaze of the newcomer.

“Well, that would explain the colic,” I nodded. “But I’ll do a full exam just to make sure.”

“I didn’t mean to, Doc,” Beau said weakly. “I just… forgot they were there.”

The other man gave him a nudge. “Maybe next time you wanna go romp in the shrubs you’ll pack up your stuff first.”

That caught my attention. I glanced up again to see both of them grinning at one another sheepishly. Beau was bright red though, looking more embarrassed than the other. Did they mean what I thought they meant? I supposed it wasn’t my business, but my curiosity was piqued.

“So,” I said, pressing the stethoscope to the horses side. “Are you two the owners? ”

“This is my family’s place,” Beau nodded. Then he glanced up at the other man. “And this… this is…” He paused for a moment, waiting for some sort of signal.

“Go on,” the other said, giving him an encouraging smile.

“This is Lucas Greene,” he said at last. “My fiancé.”

My stethoscope fell away from the horse’s side. “Your… fiancé?”

Beau looked mortified by my reaction. However, Lucas didn’t budge. “Yes,” he said, holding my gaze. “Is that going to be a problem?” There was something dangerous in his voice, a challenge that told me all I needed to know about the way people had treated him in his life.

“Not at all!” I said, my face breaking into a big smile. “Hell, that’s awesome! That means I’m not alone in this town.”

Beau seemed confused, but Lucas caught on immediately. “You a member of the alphabet mafia too?”

“Platinum gay,” I grinned.

“Platinum?” Beau asked, looking between us both.

“It means he was a c-section,” Lucas explained. “He’s never touched a vagoo.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, smiling from ear to ear. Realization slowly dawned on Beau, and a grin filled his face. It wasn’t until Willow stomped and flicked her ears that I remembered I wasn’t there to socialize.

“I’m sorry,” I said, patting her gently. “I’m gonna help you. Don’t worry.”

I turned my attention back to Willow, pressing my stethoscope against her belly, listening for gut sounds. The rhythmic gurgling was present but diminished—consistent with a mild impaction colic. Her gums looked pink, which was a good sign.

“Well?” Beau asked, his voice tight with concern.

“Good news is that I don’t think she’s in any immediate danger,” I said, running my hand along Willow’s flank. “Her gut motility is reduced, but not absent. Probably just working through those Oreos.”

Willow snorted and tossed her head, as if understanding my diagnosis and finding it somewhat undignified.

“So, she’ll be alright?” The relief in Beau’s voice was palpable.

“I’ll give her some mineral oil to help move things along and a mild sedative to keep her comfortable,” I explained, reaching for my bag. “But yes, I think she’ll be fine. No more cookies though.”